


choice mountain

by DobeTero



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Complicated Relationships, Death, MCiT, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multiple narratives, Non-Linear Narrative, Origins to Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobeTero/pseuds/DobeTero
Summary: There was no grand green portal stealing them away from home. No holy figure bathed in blinding light decreeing destiny in another world.  No catastrophe or impending doom to run from either. No build up or warningTwo friends find themselves far away from home, up to their knees in decisions. Whether they like it or not.
Relationships: TBD - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Into the Woods: Quiet Entrance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay if I feel a chapter needs any trigger warnings, they'll be up here.

When Drem ended up in Thedas, it was not a showy or loud entrance. 

There was no grand green portal stealing them away from home. No holy figure bathed in blinding light decreeing destiny in another world. No catastrophe or impending doom to run from either. No build up or warning. Nope, it was a quiet entrance.

A flicker. A blink.

There was the gross peeling walls of theirs and Josephine’s apartment while they chilled on another spring day. Drem ticking and tacking another review in, whilst Josephine scrolled through her phone. A warm silence between them as the fan whirred and rattled a familiar harmony. Occasionally the creek of the building chiming in lazily.

Blink and you’ll miss it. 

Suddenly, Drem’s on their rear, face to landscape with overhanging dusty purple skies, dogs barking in the distance, and miles upon miles of forest with only the whistling of wind and dull chirping of birds to tell where Drem was. 

Drem’s first couple of seconds in Thedas, were spent reeling from mental whiplash, staring, and silence. The seconds after were spent pinching their face in from the overwhelming wet dog smell and sudden sharp chill that had Drem cramming their hands into their pits. 

Drem’s quiet reel was cut short, as a piercing screech filled the air. Sending a flock of birds into flight, Drem whirling around to the familiar voice as they scrambled off the chilled forest floor. The echo of the scream still treading, Drem looked into the wide eyed darting expression of Josephine Jacobson. Hands clasped around her phone with her arms hugged to her chest, clad in her strawberry pajama pants and rip off emoji shirt with a sleeping cap on- reminding Drem of their own baggy DC comic logo pants and Beavis and Butthead shirt. Cuffed with dirt and soaking at the edges now.

Looking like a newborn deer, Josephine spun around frantically. Scanning and searching. For what, Drem wasn’t sure. Drem called to Josephine. No response as the woman continued her hushed panic, whispering things Drem couldn’t hear. Not fully aware of what they were doing, Drem closed the distance between the two and pulled Josephine’s hand into theirs. Saying it’s okay and I’m here, repeating the phrases until they felt alien. Until Drem wasn’t sure who they were saying it to. A silence grew as the phrases grew quieter, dying in Drem’s throat as they looked to Josephine, taking her hand away from Drem’s.

Leveling Drem with a calmed but concerned look. Drem felt a pang in their chest as a seriousness enveloped Josephine’s face. Drem only just then realized how hard their heart was pounding and how much taller the forest was. A thousand questions danced behind Josephine’s eyes at that moment. But only one left her mouth as a harsh breeze swept in.

“Where are we?”

The two had stumbled through the darkening and bitter forest. Both silently agreeing that neither had any clue where they were, and they needed to get someplace warm quickly. Only the ascending moon in its toenail shaped glory allowed any light. And that was if the trees above decided if there would be gaps.

Leading the two, Drem would throw a glance back or mutter a, ‘how are you holding up?’ To which, Josephine replied with her own arsenal of snips and comebacks. Things like, ‘You should invest in wrinkle cream, your frown wrinkles are legend’, ‘you worry any harder and you’ll transcend’ or ‘you’re not my dad-mom.’ Drem would huff and grumble, but a small smile would tug at Drem’s lips until a quiet set in. As heavy muteness haunted the gaps between their back and forths, Drem found themself grateful for Josephine and her voice. 

They trekked across the sloping and dipping forest terrain. Puddles and mud drenched their socks and pant legs, staining their legs underneath. Twigs and broken branches jabbed the soles of their feet. A new stink began to mix with the ever present dog smell as the dusk purple gave way to a deep blue. Swamp-forest, fun. Drem felt their frown deepened into a tired scowl.  _ My wrinkles  _ **_will_ ** _ be legend _ thought Drem.

Drem wanted to think they and Josephine would find their way through the already dangerous forest to some safe warm haven unfettered. Drem stupidly hoped even for the only interruption being a hermit with an idea of where they were, wi-fi, and a compatible charger for Josephine’s phone. 

Drem jumped as an arm flew around them

Startling straight as Josephine squeezed her arm around them and followed the shape of Josephine’s pointed finger with a swelling, “Look! A light, there are people out here!” Drem craned their head to see over their own hill of foliage in a break from the trees, a light. Dancing between orange and yellow, a fire. Drem felt their body perk up alongside Josephine’s. 

Drem’s smile stalled, the light was a fire-that sat upon a torch. Whoever was holding it couldn’t be gauged despite the torch light. The fire only lit up the silver armor and helm of the person and three other similarly dressed individuals, engrossed in a conversation-or at least not looking around, armor wasn’t readable. Squinting at the armor of the closest of the three people, Drem felt a terror creep in. Sword up, four spectrals, with two on each side. 

“-Rem! Helloooo! Anybody home, let’s go talk. The sooner we do, the sooner we’re home!”

Drem snapped to the present and hushed Josephine harsher than any librarian alive and pulled the woman into a crouch and said the first thing in their head in a strained whisper, “No!”

“What do you me-”

“Whisper, Josephine!” Drem chided in a sharp hush. Pressing a finger to their lip with a stern glare.

Josephine gaped, as her eyes studied Drem. Hands opening and closing until she settled for a mildly confused unblinking stare and partially open fist, whispering sharply, “Don’t you wanna go home Drem? Cause I  _ really _ wanna go home, Drem.”

Drem’s brow unknit itself, “I know you do Josie, but-”

“But we’re just sitting here in ass-grass, with our potential way home,” Josephine jabbed a finger towards the armoured people in the clearing, “over there! I’m a big girl Drem, I know stranger danger. These people could be nuts, they’re randos in armor. Crazy cosplayers! But we have to take this chance,” patting Drem’s knee with a small smile, index finger in the air, “once. And if I’m wrong, you get to say those magic words while we’re running for our lives m’kay mom-dad.” Booping Drem, Josephine pulled herself to her full height and with a full chest of swamp air yelled as she made her way into the clearing towards the armoured group down the hill. “Hey! Hello, over here!”

Every nerve and muscle in Drem’s body cringed into a tense ball as their voice left them and all they could do was peek over the foliage of the hill as the shape of Josephine made her way down. 

“Halt!”

Josephine’s shape on the hill paused as the group from the clearing neared the bottom of the hill. All three casting a ring of light with torches. As the group neared, armor clinking, Drem saw the red robed at their wastes, the outline of a scabbard barely visible against the red of two. The one leading didn’t seem to have one. 

Not to mention their height compared to Josephine who was a solid five ten. They all had to be at least six five or more as Josephine shrunk in their presence.  _ Armored giants practically _ Drem thought, where Drem was only five two on a good day.

Drem felt Josephine’s confusion as she no doubt examined and sized up the group. “Uh okay. I just wanted to know if guys happen to have a phone we-I could use.” 

A selfish part of Drem wanted to palm their face for Josephine’s slip up.

“We? What’s a phone?” A deep voice questioned. Originating from the armored person on the leader’s left. 

“Ser look at her clothes, never seen a chasind wear anything that bright. Or any mage-not even Orlesian ones” Said a raspy shrill voice, the person on the leader’s right.

Drem felt a particular dread creep into their stomach at the groups questioning.  _ Move  _ Drem told their body.  _ Please _ .

“I’m sorry is-like is this some sort of larping thing? Orlesian? Mage? What are you talking about?” Josephine probed, even if Drem couldn’t see her face they could hear the confusion and feel her frustration. Josephine shook her head, pressing further. “Please can you guys just cut the act and let me and my friend get out of this forest!” Josephine snapped, hands flying up.

_ Just move. Move. Please.  _ Drem didn’t know who they were begging at that moment.

_ Ssshing _ , Josephine’s form jolted to a stiff stillness, hands still in the air. Frozen. A sword gleamed amidst the torch light, from the person on the leader’s left. 

“What the hell ge-”

_ Move. Please. _

“That’s enough from you mage! Quiet yourself!” Roared the even but booming voice of the leader. “Not another step or sound, less you wish to be cut down maleficar!”

A shape trudged behind the torch lights. Swamp-forest. Dog smell. Drem didn’t want to believe the insignia or the group.

Templars.

Time felt slow, as Drem saw eight giant black eyes glint in the torch light behind the templars. 

_ Move. _

Drem’s body came alive, lurching towards Josephine. 

Drem tried to unsee the leader of the armored giant’s head crunching like cheap aluminum in the spider’s maw. Sword falling with a thud. A pointed scream splintering the air. The templar’s peers planted in horror. Josephine planted the same, staring on.

Drem took Josephine’s arm in a desperate vice grip and gave a solid tug away from the scene. Bringing the woman and her legs to life. Eyes alive with something distant.

The forest and hills blurred as the two ran. 

Drem couldn’t tell what sound wanted filled their ears as they all vied to fill them. Blending together in a violent cacophony. Their own heart pounding. Screams. Legs thudding into the forest floor. A violent hiss. Armor clanking than crunching under. Sick quelching. A cry. Thundering roar, shaking Drem's core. Screaming fire.

The raspy shrill voice screaming for help. Anyone. Please help. Fire crackling. Armour squealing like whining grease.

A light stamped out.

The noise grew into distant white noise until it was only Drem and Josephine’s legs moving through the underbrush of the forest and their own breathing filling their ears as the underbrush snatched at them. 

Exhaustion ate the edges of Drem’s body and their chest ached. When did Josephine start carrying them? Drem was tired.

“I am too mom-dad.” Josephine murmured, holding Drem closer to her chest.

Drem must be really tired cause Josephine can read minds now. Drem wanted to hug Josephine but their arms felt like weights. Drem wished they weren’t so tired.

“Go to sleep stinky.”

But Josephine has a smidgen of ketchup on her face. Drem tried reaching to brush it off her but Josephine ducked away. 

Drem's vision started fuzzing at the edges.

A couple of rain drops pelted Drem but no more followed after.

“Sleep, stinky.”

Drem’s eyelids slammed closed like a heavy door. The spaces between the trees whistling a familiar harmony that was too far away for Drem to recognize as they drifted to sleep. 

"You were right." A whisper.


	2. Into the Woods: Made Real

Blight and its darkspawn didn’t feel like an impossibility to Carver. 

The whole thing just felt like a faraway event, the way a farmer would hear about Orlais and noblemen issues. Things that happened without a doubt, but not to Carver and his family. Not to Nowhere-Lothering, because what happens to and in Lothering; nothing. Except dog piss, crops, and spit.

With a qunari captured in only a couple days after Jacobson’s little friend raved about evacuation and darkspawn; the blight didn’t feel real.

When the darkspawn sightings and talks increased from a hum to a din Carver tensed. Yet, Carver  _ always _ tensed when there was a possibility of templars or at least more people to fetch templars. But the issue didn’t feel real even then. Even when troops and grey wardens trickled through Lothering to Ostagar, group by group. Week by week. 

Even if the darkspawn were real the Blight wasn’t anything but an opportunity, a chance to finally make a name for himself. Have a military career and it was through Ostagar. Through the pest as one of the soldiers had put it. Pests. Nearly everyone of the soldiers and hired swords Carver talked to about the darkspawn or possibility of a Blight said it would be like putting down a rabid dog. A bit of a scrapping then out with a handful of gold and silver. It didn’t feel like a problem even if it was real and Carver was tense. 

Ironically enough it was Jacobson’s friend, the small baby faced one. Drem, who made Carver’s tenseness grow into dread with a single conversation. 

The same little chasind who everyone in Lothering either laughed off or ignored after they had warned of an impending disaster; the Blight. Approaching him in the quiet hours of the tavern, not with their small hasted steps and furrowed brow. Instead they wore a blank expression and heavy eyes, sitting across from Carver wordlessly. Looking into him and his eyes so intensely that Carver had to stop himself from squirming under their gaze. Despite towering over them whilst sitting.

“Carver, you know it takes.” They had said matter of fact, no incline, just flat voice and fact. 

“It? You mean darkspawn? Who doesn’t know, bastards destroy everything.” Carver replied with a swig of his mug. It wasn’t too hard a guess. Jacobson had bemoaned what conversations between her and Drem had devolved into at this point.

“No. Carver you don’t know, they don’t just take out homes. They take more than you think.” The chasind’s voice was quiet, not frantic-stressed. That made Carver point his full attention towards Drem. “They aren’t like people, they have no fear or heart. When they come, they won’t stop. They’ll take.” 

Carver wanted to ask what the darkspawn took but was more frustrated than he was curious. “What is this even about? Stop speaking like your prophet. Just spit it out already.” 

“The darkspawn, they take people as much as they take lifes and armor Carver. But what I’m talking about, is the Blight.” Drem clasped and unclasped their hands, voice layered with a dark tone; still low. “It is alive and will cut through everything we love like a knife.”

“Is that all of the woeful news you have today little chasind?” Carver snarked with a touch more of a snarl than Jacobson would’ve approved. Holding his mug in a vice grip, a feeling crawling into his chest and fingertips; sharp and sweeping.

A quiet moment and look, then a small “Yes” left them and Carver could only stare like an idiot as Drem stood. Stilling, their face softening as they looked to Carver with worry etched in their brow. “And Carver, be careful and keep her safe. Because,” Drem’s face steeled as worlds and thoughts flickered behind their eyes, “it’s real. No matter how much we talk and wish.” And they were gone as quickly as they came.

Leaving Carver with a half empty mug and shape shifting dread. 

Somehow Carver’s belief in the possibility of a Blight did not grow with Drem’s planted seed of dread. His belief didn’t grow a week before Ostagar’s battle as Carver boarded the wagon to the revived fortress. Nor did it grow days before they would face off against the darkspawn horde. 

No, the Blight became real the minute he saw Jacobson in a crowd of soldiers the day before the battle. 

Jacobson, who fumbled with swords and staff, Jacobson who didn’t have a fraction of a weapon's ability or heart. The same Jacobson who cringed at an offered weapon and said she would rather have the experts to stand behind in a fight. Jacobson was barely recognizable, clad in mercenary leathers and a sword at her hip and shield on her back and a gait paired with a stance similar to soldiers. When did Jacobson become a soldier with a serious look and frown on her face instead of a grin and a lewd pun? 

When the Blight became more than a farmer boy’s distant nightmare and was Carver’s tomorrow.

* * *

“Soooo, Carver-you and Peaches eh?” A voice drawled.

Carver nearly threw his sword as he startled at the voice behind him, whipping around to a girl clad in furs and leather leaning over the fence post of the training grounds with a shit eating grin smeared on her face. Oh, Jacobson.

Clapping her hands together mockingly, Jacobson smirked, “I know we’re in the middle of nowhere and nothing but behind a barn, Carver, buddy, really? Have you no manners, tsk tsk.”

Carver scowled as he felt his ears flush. “Who even told you that?”

“Would you believe me if I said nobody important.”

Huffing, Carver shook himself as he got back into position. Squaring his shoulders as he swung into the ragged fighting dummy. “That doesn’t answer the question Jacobson.” Swing, thunk.

“And pouting won’t answer mine either.”

Swing, swing. Thunk, thunk. Swing, thunk, swing thoonk. 

“I guess neither of us are getting what we want then.” Carver smiled, interrupting his next attack on the fighting dummy, facing Jacobson. Carver asked as he tapped his chin with a screwed brow. “Hey  _ why  _ are you here anyways? Aren’t you and the small one supposed to be doing something? In their words, something of ‘ _ major importance _ ’ if I’m recalling it correctly.”

Carver conjured the memory of Jacobson’s last visit, she and Carver had gone to the tavern. The shorter chasind had interrupted Carver and Jacobson’s conversation, ripe with dirty jokes and complaining, stressing to the two that theirs and Jacobson’s next visit couldn’t be all yee’s and haws. Whatever yees and haws were, they had to wait for Jacobsons and her small friend’s important task. 

They were a bit of tit for someone who lived in the forest if you asked Carver.

Jacobson launched herself over the fence, tumbling towards Carver. Quipping, “If by important task you mean chat up a redhead and run off to the edges of town and embrace the cooky hermit deal. I don’t think there’s really a need for lil ol me on such an important task.” Elbowing Carver, Jacobson smiled. “Besides, if Drem gets to ogle a Lothering local I get too as well. Less red and piety, more muscle of course.” Jacobson began flexing her arms and wearing an overly intense face, strutting with false bravado.

Snorting as he leaned onto his sword, Carver smirked. “Well if you want me to make the mabari bark...” 

Jacobson’s bravado face dropped in favor of a screwed smile, playfully shoving Carver as she rolled her eyes. “Ohh,  _ that’s  _ how you got Peaches huh? Your goofy tattoo is what ropes em in!” Jacobson started a poking siege into Carver’s arm.

“Like your little butterfly is something to tremble at.” Carver teased as he jabbed a finger into Jacobson’s side where Jacobson had once shown him the colorful butterfly inked on top of her ribs.

With a yelp Jacobson swatted Carver’s hand away. Crossing her arms Jacobson, began to circle Carver. “Oh my bad, if I’m in danger-let’s say classic bandit ambush- I’ll have you take off your shirt and make your tattoo show them what for and not to mess with Carver Hawke.”

“I think you being a forest lady will have them running before that, specifically a forest lady who never stops talking.”

“Ha, my mouth is legend for a reason, Carver.” Jacobson’s face froze as well as the rest of her body as she registered the words that left her mouth. “Wait. That-” 

Jacobson didn’t get a chance to explain herself as Carver doubled over into a fit of laughter. Clutching his stomach as he pointed at Jacobson who with a snrk joined in after a couple seconds. The two’s laughing fit tumbled from a throaty chuckle to soundless heaving as the two leaned into each other, at some point they had decided the ground was the best-and only place-to sit.

Jacobson whooped and patted Carver’s back, beaming, “You have no idea how much I needed that laugh.” The chasind’s eyes lit up, as she pushed herself off the ground. A beat of silence filled the air between them before, “Hey, Carver come on, let’s do something!” Then without another word Jacobson bolted off.

Carver blinked. Registered the chasind’s words. Then with a head shake and resigned smile followed Jacobson.

“Where are we going, the taverns back that way.” Carver stated as he joined Jacobson’s side. The chasind in question still trekking, the edges of her lips quirked up.

“Yeah, no. Not dealing with the tavern in today's venture Carvy boy.“ Jacobson shrugged. 

Carver felt a faint flush in his cheeks as he mentally added ‘Carvy boy’ to his growing list of Jacobson’s nicknames for him. Right between, The Carver. The Sword. The Legend and Carvatthew. 

“The forest?” Carver deadpanned as he stopped in his tracks, giving Jacobson a look.

“The forest.” Jacobson affirmed with an innocent look at Carver as she gestured to the back trail leading into the woods. Rocking back and forth on her heels.

“What are we even going to do in the forest that we can’t do here?”

“Not be interrupted by your dearest elder sibling or my lovely Drem.”

Carver thought of Hawke with their scowl and line for a lip, leering over Carver and Jacobson when they were talking outside the house. Brooding and glooming as Jacobson said. If it wasn’t for Bethany, Carver would’ve thought all mages were broody and forlorn. But it was just the elder siblings taking all the fun. And apparently short chasind people as well.

Humming, Carver nodded as he started into the woods, “Fair, to the woods and to weird hermit women I guess then.”

“To commune with nature!” Jacobson exclaimed with a hefty stomp as she pointed forward dramatically.

Carver rolled his eyes. “If you call stepping in hot dog shit communing with nature, then you’re already a step ahead of me Jacobson.”

“What the-” Jacobson started then glanced down, disgust lighting up her face along with horror. “Awww, fucking gross!” Jacobson began stomping and sliding at the ground, yelling as she flailed about.

Carver found himself with a warm feeling growing in his chest as he threw his head back with a laugh.

Jacobson was, if anything, a fresh of breath air and good company. And terribly odd for a chasind. 

Terribly odd for a person.

“Carver, can you be a pal and help instead of staring!”

And Carver found that he was okay with that. Who else would appreciate him and his muscles anyway. 

“Coming, coming. If you yell any louder, all of Ferelden will hear you.”

“Carver!” Josephine groaned. A grin twisting in between her scowl. 

* * *

“Carver!”

Carver felt his back slam to the ground with a push, a hiss then  _ shnnk  _ and a limp ghost eyed corpse was next to him black blood spilling from its throat; mouth open in a silent gape. Rain pelting into him as a roaring clash and clang surrounded him, thundering clouds tumbling and groaning above him. 

“-p! Carver get up!” Someone was hauling him to his feet, shoving a sword into his hand. It was Jacobson, doused in blood and eyes alight. She nodded to him before throwing herself back into the fight with a shield bash and crying into a group of spawn.

Carver took in the scene before him. Bodies lay limp, unblinking, bruised and bloody. Some didn’t even have heads, was that Alma and Gregor?! Carver’s fighting companions, the ones who’d taken him out to get tattoos with him only two weeks ago; lifeless with arrows littering their body like pincushions. 

A slaughter, this was a slaughter. 

They’d be alive if there weren’t darkspawn. The horde continued to trample through Ostagar’s forces. Red inched through Carver’s vision, eyes damp as he launched himself into the undead forces. Hacking and cutting up the monsters. They’ll destroy everything, Lothering, his mom, Bethany, Hawke, but.. not if Carver destroyed them first.

A scream left Carver as thunder boomed overhead, raising his sword to the horde of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed. 
> 
> Speculation is also allowed in the comments.


	3. Into The Woods: Know Her

Drem was sitting in front of the hut, no doubt waiting for Josephine to return. 

Josephine wasn’t looking for sorrys or word walls. She needed space. Giving a quick flap to her wings Josephine took to the air from her perch in the tree. Away from Drem as the trees shrank and sky came closer.

Josephine knew Drem hated arguing without facts. Knew how they’d rather not confront an issue with Josephine if it meant emotional fallout. 

But Josephine still needed to know for sure. In the late hours of the night, as the fire dimmed, the chilled wind rasping at the door as Drem finishes the last of their stew turning to a book. A rare quiet moment. And so Josephine talked.

Asking what happened if Hawke was a mage and not a warrior like they’d originally thought. Josephine had a suspicion, a recall of a distant memory where Drem explained the siblings faith. Josephine didn’t want to think for a second Carver would actually die. She knew she began rambling, how the two of them needed to help them.

* * *

Josephine thought Drem was having a stroke. Or a cog in their brain had been jammed as they blankly stared into the book in their lap. They blinked back to the present with a quiet thump of their book closing, as they cocked their head at Josephine. Looking at her as if she grew a second head.

“Help them…” Drem said slowly, checking if those were the actual words Josephine used. 

Josephine wasn’t deterred. 

“Yeah, we should help them!” Drem went to place their book in the hut’s corner, back to Josephine as she talked. “And _why_ shouldn’t we, we know what we can do!”

Shoulders heaved with a sigh, head dropped Drem whispered. “Josephine you know why we can’t do that.” A sad resignment sat in their words.

Josephine felt an anger bubble in her chest as she frowned at Drem’s backside.

“Actually Drem, I don’t know.” 

Josephine could hear Drem roll their eyes across the room. “This isn’t about you and Carver, it isn’t a sabotage-it’s not personal. We just can’t go poking our nose into this. It’s too big.” A familiar spiel, Drem continued as they organized the book pile. “Bigger than you or I can really say.”

“I think you just want to feel better about being a coward, because if you tried to actually help people you’d have to admit you care!”

Drem snapped their head towards Josephine. “I care! About _us_ , about surviving!”

“And what about everyone else?!” 

“Josephine, that-” Drem’s anger sweeped into a quietness, speaking aside. “That is not fair.”

“What about Leliana and Carver, we could help them. We don’t have to tell them anything abou-” Josephine pressed.

“Stop.” Drem threw their hands in front of them, eyes twisted shut. “Just stop Josephine. No, no we can’t _tell_ them anything or _do_ anything.”

“Why.”

“Because of that big bad Blight you’ve been ignoring me talk about!” Drem barked “Because we have to _leave_!”

“Leave?!” Josephine parroted in disbelief. “When were you going to tell me that?!”

“When the Blight was miles away and we were near Orlais! I thought we agreed that Ferelden was short term.”

“I thought you’d gotten close to Leliana, what were you going to tell her?”

“This isn’t-what if I don’t like being in the radius of disaster. Or any major important person who bad things happen to, just because faith says so.” Drem reached for Josephine’s arm. “Josephine I know you and Carver-”

They didn’t know a damned thing.

Josephine jerked her arm away from Drem, as she sneered. “I don’t need you, like you need me Drem. I’m going to help my friend, stupid game predictions or no.”

Drem’s face hardened from concern to a blank look. Josephine stared back, unyielding.

A chuckle and headshake, Drem wore a crooked smile at a joke Josephine never heard. “Need you? _Josephine_ you can barely look at a long branch and think of violence. What- for five seconds- makes you think you can take on all of Thedas. Who can be summarized with magic, violence, and chaos. The plot won’t be kind to us at best-at worst decide we aren’t important.” Arms dropped to their sides, Drem rasped with a small shrug all the humor gone. A sound, Josephine wasn’t sure meant for her or Drem, left them. “There’s nothing we can do to help.”

* * *

Drem's approval or no. Carver wasn’t going to die. Not if Josephine had any say. No matter what.

A plan. Josephine needed a plan. 

_Josephine you can barely look at a long branch and think of violence. What- for five seconds- makes you think you can take on all of Thedas. Who can be summarized with magic, violence, and chaos._

Defence, Josephine needed to know how to defend herself if she wanted to defend Carver. 

Flemeth. She’s helped so far. A question wouldn’t be so bad.

With a tilt of her wings, Josephine found herself flying towards a hut at the forest’s heart.

* * *

“What’s up with you being afraid of some old lady witch in the woods? Minus the witch part of course.” Josephine asked in between fiddling the food over the fire.

“Old lad-oh. Flemeth. Yeah, no, she’s bad news all the way. I’m just smart enough not to look for her.” 

“What do you think would happen if you did? What’s the worst that’ll happen? She says no?” Josephine prodded, gaze flicking from the food to Drem’s reaction.

A moment passed as Drem’s brow knitted together. “No. She’ll say yes, then it gets worse.”

Josephine muttered a ‘mhm’ and set her stare back on the food in the pot.

How was Josephine supposed to explain to Drem that she’d done a bit more than agree to a bargain. Accepted help and learned magic from her. Glancing back at Drem for a second, Josephine decided no harm came from not knowing a bit longer.

How bad was such an old lady if she only gave you good things?

* * *

Morrigan didn’t try to hide how she wrinkled her nose at opening the door to Josephine’s. Though Josephine quickly brushed off any of Morrigan’s barbs that were sent her way. Glancing about for Flemeth, Josephine brushed past Morrigan.

Pushing into the mother and daughter’s hut.

“Have you no manners girl?” Flemeth pitched from her spot near the fireplace. 

Morrigan snorted. “Now we’re terribly concerned with manners.”

“Sorry! It’s just I need to ask you for help!”

“Help? Haven’t I helped enough.” Flemeth quirked a brow.

“Ah, yes mother, helping by pushing her magic teachings onto me.” Morrigan snarked as she stalked past the fire.

“Still your tongue.” Flemeth snapped. The entirety of the hut stilled under her words. “Less you wish to add any further of your teachings to the girl’s list you will leave us to talk.” Morrigan looked stiffly from Flemeth to Josephine before stomping out of the hut. 

Josephine couldn’t put a finger on it but the firelight dancing off Flemeth’s face gave her a pause. A pit forming in Josephine’s stomach churned over itself as she found her voice. Josephine resisted the urge to shrink under Flemeth’s gaze as she set her sights solely on Josephine. “Now, what do you need?”

  
  


“I need to learn how to fight.”

“Is that all? You can go about using your magic just fine.”

“No, I mean actual sword-swinging-fighting! I can’t depend on my magic to brain a guy!”

“Hm, and you’re so sure magic can give you what you want so easily.”

“I know you know something that can help me.”

“Such help can not be found cheaply or freely.” “Would you be willing to do some helping for me?”

“I- it depends…”

Flemeth chuckled. “Nothing, strenuous. Just moving some ashes.”

“Oh.” Josephine blinked. “ _Oh_ , I’m sorry, did you say ashes?”

Flemeth said nothing as she disappeared behind a corner of the hut, a bit of quiet rummaging later and the old woman returned. A corked tube in hand and an ornate gold urn under her arm.

Flemeth sets the urn on the table, gripping the tube.

“If you wish for my help, you’ll take this urn and bury it-”  
  


“That’s-that’s all?”

“-near your hut.”

“Wait, what! Why?!” Josephine was convinced Drem would explode if they found out!

“Such questions have little to do with mine. If you wish to know the means of defending yourself ultimately” She lifted the tubed cork in the air, “you will bury this urn near your hut.” Flemeth bore into Josephine with her eyes. “Do you accept my terms or not?”

Josephine swallowed the bile in the back of her throat, looking to the ashes then to Flemeth.

_She’ll say yes, then it gets worse._

Even if Drem was right, Josephine couldn’t remove Carver’s corpse from her head. Her friend, dead eyed and empty. Because Josephine accepted that she couldn’t defend him. Because she decided on nothing.

Doing nothing wasn’t an option for Josephine. Getting help wasn’t cheap, this was only proof.

Josephine picked up the Urn, hand held out for the corked tube in Flemeth’s fingers.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a comment and kudos if you liked it so far.


End file.
